


Even the darkest night will end...

by Burntblackfeathers



Series: Writing Games [29]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:53:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26710993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burntblackfeathers/pseuds/Burntblackfeathers
Summary: “I’ve got you” (17 minutes)
Series: Writing Games [29]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1326800
Kudos: 2





	Even the darkest night will end...

Noise does not rouse a drunken man; silence awakens him. The fall of everything around him only augmented Grantaire's prostration; the crumbling of all things was his lullaby. The sort of halt which the tumult underwent in the presence of Enjolras was a shock to this heavy slumber. It had the effect of a carriage going at full speed, which suddenly comes to a dead stop. The persons dozing within it wake up. Grantaire rose to his feet with a start, stretched out his arms, rubbed his eyes, stared, yawned, and understood.

Too late.

Perhaps in another time Grantaire had awoken before the final blow. Perhaps he had stood as he was now, and crossed the room to stand with Enjolras in defiance. 

Enjolras was not standing now. 

Grantaire stumbled forward, his foot having connected with something, and looking down he saw Combeferre, his glasses broken. Grantaire found a sound escaping him and he clamped a hand tight against his mouth, stifling it. He shuts his eyes for a moment before resolutely continuing forward, the need to be sure, to-

Enjolras was lying, pinned against the wall by bullets as unforgiving as those who shot them. Grantaire falls to his knees, hands hovering over fabric that is sticky and a dark dark red, no sign of any other colour on the flag that Enjolras had worn. Another sound rose in his throat and this time he could not stop it, a broken cry bursting from his throat. Enjolras’ eyes fluttered, opening just a crack. 

“Oh, Oh Enjolras, I- I am sorry I do not know-” Grantaire’s hands stilled at the expression on Enjolras’ face. Uncertain. 

He shifted, coming to sit beside the man. He very carefully moved Enjolras’ hair from his eyes, cupping his head, and letting him lean against Grantaire’s chest. “I have you. Rest.” Grantaire shook, just a little, but he clamped down on it. There would be plenty of time later in which he could shake, when he would have to- have to- “Rest, Enjolras. The sun will be rising soon.”

***

“Enjolras! You are still here? For what reason? Surely your bed’s call is as strong as mine is, though we differ on almost everything else I do believe that this is a universal fact.”

Enjolras had stared at him blearily, “I do not find myself able to dispute it.”

Grantaire had laughed, “To bed with you, Monsieur.”

Enjolras had nodded, looking far younger than he usually did. “And for yourself as well, a universal fact after all.” He had stood up, wiped at his face before looking about himself. “My bag…”

Grantaire had handed it to him, “I have you. Go and rest Enjolras, the sun will be rising soon.”

**Author's Note:**

> I swear there is a part two to this, go to the next work. It's cathartic! Sometimes I just like to hurt them.


End file.
